Killer Colton Christmas

by Regan Black

  She stirred the blend in the skillet and finally met his gaze, a warmer smile curving her lips. “No.”

  He brought her close and kissed her, tasting the coffee on her tongue, inhaling the savory scents of breakfast clinging to her cheek, her clothing.

  “You’re in my shirt,” he said, easing back far enough to trace his finger across her skin, just above the neckline of the T-shirt layered under it.

  She quivered. “Is that a problem?”

  He considered it an honor. “No.”

  The timer went off for the eggs and she jumped a little. When the plates were ready, he carried them to the table and sat across from her. He could watch her forever. Famished, he dug in. “Wow. The culinary world is missing out on a star,” he said once he’d swallowed.

  She laughed lightly, music to his ears. “A starving man is easily pleased.”

  “False humility,” he accused with a teasing wink. “You should write down this recipe for my mom.”

  She gave him a noncommittal hum around a bite of food.

  “I can’t stop thinking about your case,” he said. “You need to feel safe again. What if we could push the Cohort into a mistake?”

  “We?” Her dark gaze lit with interest. “How?”

  “The layers within that brainstorm page,” he explained. “They want more xylazine and we have some. That should get me a meeting with one of the local Principes.”

  “Local?” Her fork clattered against her plate.

  He reached across and stroked the back of her hand. “I discovered two IP addresses on that page that are local to Shadow Creek. Based on language and technique, Finn believes they might be high-ranked Principes.”

  “And if you get the meeting?”

  “We make arrests. The FBI can encourage whoever shows up to roll over on Sulla and we have our case. Instead of the Cohort making an example of you, we make an example of its members and get on with living our lives.”

  She withdrew her hand. “Sounds like a plan.” Pushing back from the table, she carried her dishes to the sink.

  “Would you like to help me?”

  She turned off the water and spun, excitement glowing in her eyes. “You mean it?”

  “Two heads are better than one.” He smothered his mixed feelings about her enthusiasm. She hadn’t touched a computer in over ten days. In her shoes he’d be itching to get online too. The flip side was her realizing how much she missed her career. A problem for later.

  Resigned, he swallowed the last of his coffee and took over the dishes. “Why don’t you bring the laptops in here? I left them on the desk. Get your cell phone too. It will be easier to work side by side.”

  Alone with the cleanup, he knew loving her meant he would soon have to let her go back to the city life and career where she flourished. As their father often reminded Emiliano and his brother when they’d fussed about less pleasant chores, no one said you had to like it.

  Two hours later, he wasn’t any happier about pushing the investigation than he was about the idea of Marie returning to Dallas.

  Using FBI technology to mask his IP address and a screen name of Robin Hood, with Marie’s perceptive assistance, he set to work baiting the hook. He’d finally found the right combination of rhetoric and vocabulary to earn an invitation to the ultra-secret next level of the Campus Martius, the Cohort message board. Discovering the hacktivists had been relentless in pursuit of Marie was disturbing, though now he could steer that discussion in a new direction.

  “This is what you do at work?” he asked, skimming through the most recent conversation.

  “It’s basically being an excellent listener online.” She scooted back in her chair, drawing a knee to her chest so he could see she wasn’t touching the keyboard. “Then I tailor the interactive conversation they have with us. You’re offended.”

  “Mesmerized.” He shook his head. “This type of thing must be invaluable for customer service.” He leaned over and set his lips to hers for a brief kiss.

  She relaxed, sitting up again as they continued evaluating the people on the message board.

  “It’s understanding and juggling point of view. What our customers hear and how it affects their decisions. Companies have hired consultants to manage this data for decades. Computers just make it easier.”

  “For everyone,” he grumbled. The current discussion on kidnapping Marie and forcing her to publicly backtrack and undo her work as a CDO was heating up. The loudest voices were citing a bogus article about her colluding with Barrington posted by Everything’s Blogger in Texas. Someone else added a lousy cut-and-paste photo of her having coffee with Livia Colton.

  “I might choke on the hypocrisy,” she murmured, reading over his shoulder. “Hang on. Can you enlarge that logo?”

  “Good eyes,” he said. A chill brushed over the nape of his neck. Whoever fabricated the picture had used a candid shot of a café in Shadow Creek.

  Her hand gripped his forearm. “Emiliano, that’s from Friday. They replaced Claudia’s face with Livia’s.”

  “The day the loose cattle made you late coming home.”

  “Yes.” She clapped a hand to her mouth as emotions washed over her face. Fear or hope? He wasn’t sure.

  He checked his case notes. That was the day after he’d confirmed Cohort activity tracing back to IP addresses in Shadow Creek. His team had tried to blame Marie, forcing him to defend his supervision skills. “We have to stop this,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “If the Cohort has someone this close, let’s get them out in the open. Help me sound appealing enough to risk a face-to-face.”

  “Tell them you know where I am.”

  “No.” The idea made his gut clench. He couldn’t take that kind of chance with her.

  “You know it’s the best option.” She slipped her hand into his. “We can control the meet and take precautions.”

  “You’re sure.”

  She nodded. “Let’s end this.” Her lips set in a determined line, she leaned forward. The clove-and-ginger scent of her shampoo teased him as they carefully negotiated his meeting with the local Princeps.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Marie curled up in the big chair near the fireplace in the great room, pretending to read a book, her hand absently stroking Scrabble’s ears.

  Emiliano had gone out to speak with Ace, and although she’d been invited, Scrabble remained with her. Instead of the familiar annoyance or confusion about his dog’s choice, there had been something closer to humor and happiness in his gaze as he kissed her on his way out the door.

  That easy kiss left a residual of rightness and delight humming in her system.

  She’d been watching the clock since the Princeps agreed to the meeting, unable to think of anything other than ending this deadly dance with the Cohort. When it was over, when she was safe, she would return home to Dallas and never enjoy this view of the Ortega ranch again.

  It made her inexplicably sad and she cuddled Scrabble closer.

  “You’re such a love,” she murmured. Love. The word echoed through her head. She was in love with Emiliano. How was it even possible, with her background? Clutching the book to her chest, she tried to deny it and couldn’t.

  She pushed out of the chair and paced in front of the Christmas tree. Should she tell him? What good would come of that? They were from two different worlds. No, this was her problem. He was handling too much for her already. Her heart would stay here, with him, once she was out of danger.

  Hearing the chime for the kitchen door, she pasted a smile on her face, masking her tumultuous emotions as Emiliano walked in.

  “I have the ranch hands riding the property lines as a precaution,” he said.

  “Thank you?” She wasn’t sure what else to say. It was smart.
From what they’d learned, she was now a trophy for the Cohort cause.

  “I don’t like leaving you alone even for a minute.” He checked his phone again. They both knew he had to leave or risk losing the meeting. “Finn should’ve been here by now.”

  “I have excellent supervision.” She smiled down at Scrabble, dragging her thoughts away from a cliff of misery. Her heart was in enough trouble. Could her soul handle one more loss if he got hurt on her behalf? “And Ace is close enough if Scrabble needs any help herding me.”

  He scowled. “Keep your phone on.”

  “I promise.” She waved the device, showed him it was charged up.

  He kissed her with a resolve and urgency she understood. Ever since the mistletoe, and before that, really, a need had pulsed inside her veins that only he could satisfy. If she didn’t get back to Dallas, back to work soon, she might start believing this idyllic time with Emiliano could blossom into something more permanent.

  Marie stood at the window until his truck disappeared around the curve of the drive, hoping his meeting gave the FBI the arrests they needed. They both knew this was temporary and merely making the most of it.

  She scolded herself for giving in to that first urge to kiss him. Now she knew what she would be walking away from when they brought the Cohort under control. Men like Emiliano valued family, stability and history. Everything she didn’t have and could never offer a man who deserved that and so much more.

  At her feet, Scrabble gazed up at her adoringly. “Maybe I should start my own family with a dog.” Not that she knew anything about taking on that kind of responsibility. She could take a class or something. Her Colton, Incorporated, salary meant she could invest in a house with a yard so a pet would be happy. It wouldn’t be Shadow Creek, but it would be more than her quiet, empty apartment.

  “Let’s go find Gordo,” she said, heading toward the barn. “We’ll all take some carrots to the horses.”

  Enjoying the pace of ranch life had surprised her. She’d been so sure it would be boring drudgery. Emiliano and his neighbors in Shadow Creek had proved her wrong. Beyond the daily adventures amid the routine care of a ranch this size, the sense of community pride and open acceptance of even her held immense appeal. Was there a place for her in Shadow Creek?

  Scrabble barked at the sound of an approaching car. “That’s probably my new babysitter,” Marie said. With a sack full of carrots and a few sugar cubes in her pocket, she aimed for the paddock at the front of the house.

  Although she hadn’t seen him since the FBI had arrived at the Dallas office, she recognized Finn Townsend as he stepped out of the black sedan. He’d parked nearly on top of the porch and she swallowed a request for him to move the car back. Beside her, Scrabble voiced her disapproval.

  “Hey!” His brown wavy hair was pushed back off his forehead, and in the navy polo shirt and khakis he seemed a little nervous, and lines of tension aged the boyish grin she remembered. “Is Emiliano here?”

  “No.” At her feet, Scrabble rumbled. Marie agreed with the dog. There was a weird energy rolling off Finn that had her wishing she’d stayed behind the security system in the house.

  Scrabble edged forward, ears back and ruff rising. When he crouched down to greet her, she backed up closer to Marie.

  “Easy, girl,” he said, standing quickly. “Where are you two headed?”

  “We’re taking treats to the horses.” Being comfortable around the horses didn’t mean she was ready to go riding alone.

  “I’ll join you.”

  Marie handed him the bag of carrots. She could hardly stop him. She could, however, keep herself between Finn and the still-grumbling Scrabble. At the fence, she whistled the way Emiliano had taught her and Brandy strolled over, Picasso right behind her. Rapunzel feigned disinterest as usual. She crooned to the animals as she offered the treats, rubbing her hand over Brandy’s long, velvet nose and scratching at Picasso’s flicking ear.

  “I wouldn’t think they’d like Scrabble,” Finn said.

  “Emiliano says the horses know she’s a good partner.”

  Finn chuckled as Picasso tried to stuff his head into the bag, searching for more carrots. “You must be eager to get back to Dallas with the holidays around the corner.”

  “Sure,” she replied. Everyone on the investigation should know she didn’t have anyone to celebrate holidays with.

  “Great timing that Emiliano found a way to close in on the Princeps in the area.”

  She sensed an accusation under the words and slid him a look. “I think so.”

  “On the way in, our boss called. She wants me to take a look at the office where the perps grabbed that xylazine. It’d save us time if you could show me while we’re waiting on Emiliano.”

  She wanted to say no. Surely an FBI agent could find his way, but she agreed anyway. “Come on, Scrabble.” Maybe her help would finally convince him to stop looking at her as if she were a Cohort accomplice.

  Chapter 10

  On the drive into Shadow Creek, Emiliano listened to the hum of his tires on the smooth pavement, his thoughts flickering between the Cohort and Marie like a horse’s tail swatting flies. Something wasn’t adding up and his intuition clamored that he should’ve figured it out by now.

  He blamed the distraction on leaving her alone, though he knew she was safe. Ace and a few of the other ranch hands were around, not to mention she’d earned Scrabble’s devotion. For a self-proclaimed city girl, she showed a remarkable affinity for the animals on the ranch. Would she be willing to extend her visit?

  And that kind of thinking wasn’t putting him in the right mind-set to sell himself as her enemy at this meeting with the Cohort Princeps. Despite his precautions yesterday, he expected to be recognized and had to convince whomever showed up that he’d willingly turn against the FBI and jeopardize his spotless career. More, he needed them to believe he would deliver Marie to Sulla, according to the demand insinuated on the message board.

  The Cohort had proved itself well-informed this time around, which was another anomaly. Typically, its members struck hard and disappeared. Why was this group so determined to make a personal example of Marie?

  He parked on the street and walked into the tidy diner. Contrary to Marie’s first impression of small-town life, Shadow Creek was big enough that he didn’t know everyone and their history on sight. He did, however, know within moments that he was the first one there.

  He walked over to the booth at the window designated for the meeting, prepared to wait. No surprise that new recruits were forced to cool their heels while being vetted by other Principes lurking behind surveillance cameras and devices.

  As he sat down, playing the role of a man with all the time in the world, he saw a Guy Fawkes mask on the other bench seat. Emiliano didn’t reach over. The man who’d stolen his mother’s xylazine and drugged Ace had worn a similar mask, possibly this very one, though that would be a stupid way to leave behind evidence. Criminals were often caught by similar careless mistakes.

  Thanks to his time on the message board, Emiliano knew a discarded mask meant a Princeps wouldn’t show for a meeting. He ordered a cola and mentally replayed the setup, searching for the mistake that had spooked the Cohort.

  No need to get antsy. Finn was with Marie and Staller was out on the street watching Emiliano’s back. Once Staller realized the meeting was a bust, he’d come in and they could make a new plan. Emiliano’s heel bounced impatiently as he glared at the mask. No Princeps and no contact from Staller. He glanced out the window, searching up and down the street for his teammate. Where was he?

  The pieces aligned in a sudden rush, as the dead ends and sketchy evidence in Marie’s case suddenly clicked into a clear picture.

  The Cohort had turned Finn Townsend against them. He was the new player in this deadly game. Emiliano knew the rheto
ric on those message boards could be convincing. Still, Finn? The shocking betrayal stung and Emiliano wanted to resist the facts. He considered Finn a good friend, yet the signs were all there.

  Finn had pressed the theory that Marie had been colluding with Cohort. He’d found the incriminating emails. A programming language expert, he claimed there was a new player in Sulla’s pocket. And Finn had insisted on protecting Marie today. No wonder the bastard had been late; he’d needed Emiliano to be clear to make kidnapping Marie easier.

  Emiliano swore. He’d rolled out the red carpet for a fox to invade the henhouse.

  He dropped money on the table to cover the soda and a tip and called Staller’s number. No answer. He sent an urgent text to his boss, spelling out his revelation. No time to ask the other customers who’d left the mask in the booth. He’d been fooled and if he didn’t hurry he would be too late to save Marie. He called her next, swearing when she didn’t answer either her cell or the house phone.

  With the hands-free option in the truck, he called Sheriff Colton and then the Austin FBI office, asking for backup at the ranch. He dialed Ace’s number next; hopefully the trusted ranch manager was close enough to wreck whatever Finn had planned. Dread dripping down his spine, Emiliano stomped on the gas pedal. Saving her was going to require a miracle.

  He skidded through the turn off the blacktop, the back tires fishtailing on the gravel driveway. Around the curve, he saw the sedan parked carelessly near the house.

  Maybe he wasn’t too late, but he couldn’t wait for reinforcements to arrive. Changing his plan from one heartbeat to the next, Emiliano parked the truck to block in the sedan. No sign of Gordo, no greeting from Scrabble. It added up to significant trouble. He sent a text message, warning the ranch hands patrolling the property line to watch for Finn and to contact the sheriff if they saw him.